Love and War
by irishwoodkern
Summary: Abbie confronts Ichabod with some home truths. I really want them to revisit Abbie's feelings on Crane's disappearance and deal with him being a thoughtless bastard.


They spent the journey home in silence, as if some unspoken pact existed between them. Crane could feel his partner seething with anger from the driver's seat.

Her annoyance irked him – after all it was he who had intended to make a sacrifice of himself to Legion, the demonic hoard that that Pandora had sent to terrorise Sleepy Hollow. It seemed that there was no way of stopping the creature's murderous rampage other than stabbing it cleanly in the heart with an Akkadian needle. However, the demon's evil was reputed to have the strength of Greek fire, destroying everything within a radius of fifty feet.

Crane saw no other option – he alone would stab the creature, ending its reign of terror forever. He saw a look in Abbie's eyes that he had never seen before – a fury more powerful than any demon. She refused point-blank to listen to his pleas, instead wordlessly grabbing the needle and loading it into Crane's trusty cross-bow. With only one chance to kill the beast, she calmly aimed the weapon and fired. The moment they realised that the needle had struck true, they both turned and ran.

Abbie pulled up sharply and had reached the front door before he was able to unbuckle his seat beat. He followed her inside, where he found her pacing distractedly in the living room.

'You're determined to get yourself killed, aren't you?'

He stared at her in pure astonishment. _How could she think so? Surely she understood that_ _he only considered it because he saw no other choice?_

'Lieutenant, I…'

'Don't.' Abbie's expression was implacable. 'You don't get to talk now. I've kept quiet because things were finally on an even keel between us, but I'm not going to be silent anymore. When you left, I was so scared. For a week, I was left to imagine the worst, thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere. But then I got so pissed at you – I was furious. That anger led me back to Quantico. I was determined, single-minded… like I was before I met you.'

Crane looked away, unable to face her scorn.

'The day I became an agent, you'd think I'd be elated, right? But something was missing. It wasn't for a couple of days before I realised what was wrong. My best friend wasn't there. Where were you, Crane? Where were you when I needed you?'

Suddenly, Crane understood everything. Her reticence around him, the feeling that she was holding something back – it all made sense. He felt a profound sense of shame.

'Lieutenant,' he said solemnly. 'I know that I have betrayed the sacred bond between us and forsaken your trust. You have my deepest apologies, in addition to my vow that it shall not occur again. As long as our mission may last, I shall remain with you.'

'You can't make that promise.' Abbie's voice was quiet and controlled. 'Tonight you were willing to kill yourself. How many other times have you put yourself in harm's way?'

Without thinking, Crane stepped close, feeling an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her. It was not the first time he had felt such an impulse, but he had never felt such a rush of emotion as he did at that moment.

'Abbie…' His mouth went dry, every nerve and muscle and sinew in his body coming to life. All this time, he had been able to mine his eidetic memory to recall the most inane trivia, the most arcane minutiae of history. He had utilised his unique brain to translate manuscripts from dead languages and interpret the most obscure Biblical texts.

Nothing in his education or experience – it seemed – had prepared him for this. It seemed so obvious in retrospect. The joy he felt in her company, the spark of excitement he felt at the slightest touch – it could only mean one thing.

He loved Abbie.

Every moment that they had spent in each other's company, every act of reciprocity or kindness they had shared, every peril they had faced and overcome had transformed the burden that had been imposed upon them into something entirely new and wonderful.

He realised that he had been staring into his partner's eyes without speaking for several minutes. The look on her face was one of fear, mingled with something inscrutable.

He opened his mouth to speak, unsure what to say.

'Don't,' Abbie said, gently this time. She placed her hand on his chest, seemingly unsure whether to rebuff him or bring him closer.

Crane took her tiny hand in his and kissed it tenderly. He heard her gasp – whether in shock or delight he knew not – but she did not pull away.

'You knew all along, didn't you?' he murmured, allowing his hands to venture down, around the curve of her waist before settling on her hips. 'You knew long before I did.'

'Yes I did,' she replied in a whispered rush. 'I knew it, you bastard.'

He took this reproof as a challenge, pulling her close to him, feeling her heartbeat skittering in her bosom. He leaned down, inhaling her unique scent – lavender shower gel and antiseptic soap and _woman_.

He pressed his lips to the patch of skin below her ear, feeling a swell of triumph as she gasped. Spurred on, he gently bit the sensitive flesh and felt an electric charge rush through her body.

Taking control, she grabbed his arms and spun him around, pushing him up against the nearby wall. Without hesitation, she hooked her arms around his neck and attacked his mouth with a punishing ferocity. When he did not respond, she pulled away and peered curiously into his eyes.

He reached forward and stroked her cheek with infinite care. 'I shall never leave you, if it is within my power. Do you believe me?'

She avoided his eyes for a moment, then, banishing uncertainty, gazed at him once more. 'Swear it. And don't swear on your life, whatever you do.'

Crane smiled, sensing her crushing doubt slowly begin to melt away. 'I swear on all that is holy, good and truthful. I swear on my love for you, Abigail Mills.'

When they kissed this time it was soft and restrained yet every bit as passionate as before. It was no longer a battle but rather a dance, their lips and tongues caressing, demanding ever more. Abbie groaned as Crane's hands moved unrestrained over the curves and planes of her body. As his nimble fingers teased and stroked and eager flesh, her hands were not idle, exploring the slender, muscular frame that had been remote and inaccessible until that moment.

Neither suggested they move to the bedroom. Instead they acted in concert, shucking clothes as they went, ravenous for each other.

* * *

Abbie awoke early, aware only of an overwhelming sensation of comfort and warmth. It slowly dawned on her that she was wrapped up in Crane's insistent embrace. The previous night returned to her – the initial frenzy that gradually petered out into gentle kisses and touches that made her heart ache with something akin to joy.

She turned and watched Crane's slumbering form, his expression untroubled for once. Something about the easy regularity of his breaths made her feel calm and protected. She chuckled to herself when she noticed the angry love-bite that she had left on his shoulder.

Crane opened one eye and immediately reached for her, encircling her in his arms once more.

'Not so tight, lover,' she mumbled contentedly. 'I'm pretty sure you left a handprint on my ass.'

'I? Never,' Crane replied sleepily, a cheeky grin creeping across his face.

'You totally spanked me. Don't deny it.'

'Perhaps I got caught in the heat of the moment,' he said bashfully. 'But you questioned my parentage and then proceeded to use your fingernails in a most unladylike fashion.'

Abbie hummed contentedly, fading off into sleep once again. 'I guess all's fair in love and war.'


End file.
